


Speak Your Truth

by Strings (nerdstrings)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Fluff and Humor, Love Confessions, M/M, Manhandling, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Tickling, Ticklish Dean Winchester, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27958163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdstrings/pseuds/Strings
Summary: Post-15x18/19 fic with certain plot points ignored (Cas gets rescued, Jack sticks around). After the onset of a compulsory truth-telling effect, Dean seeks Cas out and ends up spilling more than he anticipated.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 176
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	Speak Your Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allofthepixels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthepixels/gifts).



> Originally [posted on Tumblr](https://wordstrings.tumblr.com/post/636246776529190912/speak-your-truth-ch-1) as part of a fluffy fix-it writing crusade.

Sam tucked a scrap of paper into the gutter between pages before thumping the heavy book shut on the table. He knuckled at one eye.

“Break?” he asked.

Dean sat heavily back in his chair and cupped his hands over his face, rubbing up and down. He grunted in agreement.

Sam glanced at his watch. “Got an hour or so until Jody checks in. Anything you wanna do ‘til then?”

“Get wrecked.”

“...What?”

“What?” Dean said, pulling his hands down from his face.

Sam’s mouth warred between a frown and a smile. “What did you just say you want?”

“To get wrecked.” Dean seemed to register his words this time, his eyes widening. “Wh– I mean, uh…”

“Is that like a sex thing?” There was a manic glint of disbelief behind Sam’s squint, torn between _are you actually divulging something meaningful_ and _god please don’t scar me._

Dean scrambled to cover. “No, no, not a sex thing. I just want Cas to tickle the shit out of me.” He froze, his jaw slackening in dismay. “What… is happening?”

Sam’s squint deepened. “Are you okay?”

_No_ , was what Dean’s brain signaled to his vocal cords. “Yeah, just confused,” was what came out. Dean stared hard at the table, scowling and experimentally twisting his tongue around in his mouth. “I can’t… um.” He swallowed. “Hex bag. Check for hex bags.” Pushing his chair back from the table, Dean looked wildly around the room before ducking to begin his search under the table.

Sam didn’t move.

“Hex bags, Sammy,” Dean barked.

“Dean, we’re in arguably the most heavily warded place in the country. And Jack would’ve picked up on any bad mojo, with how cautious he’s been since, y’know, clearing the board.”

“Jack,” Dean breathed. He popped his head up above the table. “Maybe he did that thing again.” When Sam only frowned at him, Dean gestured vaguely in the air. “The truth thing. Your Celine Dion thing. Remember?”

Understanding dawned in Sam’s eyes, followed immediately by more disbelief. “Wait, was that you _telling the truth_?”

“Yes,” Dean declared emphatically, then groaned and thudded his forehead against the edge of the table. “Fuck.”

Sam pursed his lips. “Let me try. I, uh… I totally love Star Wars as much as you do.” He grinned. “Nah, it’s just you.”

“Fuck,” Dean repeated, then stood and ran a hand over his mouth. “I gotta find Jack. Cas first, though. ... _Fuck_.”

“Because you want him to… ‘wreck’ you?” Sam leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, grinning wide. “What does that mean, again?”

“Means I wanna be held down and tickled ‘til I’m exhausted from laughing and trying to get away even though I don’t really want to. _Damnit_ , Sam, can you not!”

Sam cocked his head. “Does Cas do that to you a lot?”

“Only when I’m being an insufferable asshole. Sometimes I’m annoying on purpose to goad him into it, but I wish I didn’t have to because I want it to just be for fun, too, especially now since I don’t feel like I gotta invent an excuse for him to touch me.” _Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP._

A rapid series of expressions flicked over Sam’s face. “Aaand here’s my stop. Good talk, have fun, please don’t tell me about touching anymore.” He stood abruptly and moved toward the doorway.

_I hate you_. “I love you.”

Sam paused to look back at him, something soft hovering in his eyes. “I know,” he said, smiling, and walked out.

—

Before, Dean probably would have holed up in his room. Before, he’d have waited it out, hunkered down where he wasn’t at risk of exposing his soft underbelly to anyone. Before, he _definitely_ wouldn’t have gone anywhere near Cas.

That was Before. But this world was After, and while Dean had nervous butterflies in his stomach, there was a novel assurance he was still getting used to. Assurance that Cas would stay, that Cas would listen… that _Cas loved him_.

His belly did a little flip. He still got a bit giddy whenever he sat with that thought.

Maybe it hadn’t been as big of a surprise to hear it from Cas’ mouth as some might have anticipated. Dean supposed he’d already known, on some deeper level; had always known, because Cas’ dedication could only be attributed to stubbornness and misguided goals so many times before that started to look like a cop-out answer. But having that declaration brought up from the depths like a sunken ship, seeing the shape and bulk of it revealed as it was towed heavily into the light, made it so huge and tangible that Dean’s heart stuttered in the face of it.

He still wasn’t great with words, and there was probably more he owed Cas in verbal response. But, everybody knew you didn’t just kiss a guy you didn’t care about, right? That had to have been pretty clear, even if it was rushed. The Empty’s enraged screaming had been an obvious motivator for moving quickly.

So, yeah, of course he loved Cas back. No question about that. Things had just been… kind of weird since Chuck’s abrupt removal. Dean kept finding himself glancing upward to catch a glimpse of puppeteering strings. Freedom, it turned out, didn’t automatically fill in and pave over the ruts of suspicion in his brain that kept steering him into guardedness. Dean had been doing his best to soldier through; _talking_ about it wasn’t really his gig. (“ _Ignoring your trauma doesn’t make you healthy_ ,” Sam’s voice still echoed. Yeah, well, show Dean a therapist that could handle _this_ level of cosmic bullshit, and Dean would eat his shorts.)

(Maybe he should check with Garth, though. If anybody had a bead on whatever “healthy” was, it was Garth. He was probably part of some Hunter/Monster Healthcare Professionals circle or something.)

What even were those trains of thought, though? If this truthiness crap was getting into his mind as well as his mouth, Dean was going to _have some words_ with Jack, even more than he was already planning.

Which… what was the plan, again? It really should have been to get to Jack first and take care of this compulsory honesty junk before he made an even bigger fool of himself. But Dean _really_ wanted to find Cas. Who knew what he’d blurt when he found him, but whatever it was, it would be okay, because Cas loved him.

_Cas loved him._

Dean repeated it to himself like a mantra as he marched toward what was surely the death of his pride.

Cas’ room was empty.

Shit. Dean didn’t really want to meander the whole bunker looking for him, because 1) this may have been After, but wandering around with zero verbal armor was still scary, and 2) he just... really fucking wanted to get tickled, okay, and he liked the safety of Cas’ room.

Well, he’d probably end up asking Cas if they could go back to his room anyway. One upside to compulsory truth-telling: being able to communicate about where he would prefer to get destroyed.

His belly flipped again. Cas loved him, and Cas would obliterate him. Dean could hardly wait.

The archives were empty, too.

Damnit, why was Cas hard to find _now_? Any other time, he was inconveniently within earshot when Dean said something dumb, or right around the corner like a cardboard cutout ready to scare the shit out of unsuspecting passers-by, or just… always nearby, ready to offer an encouraging word or a hug or just the comfort of his presence. Aside from time spent sleeping, Dean couldn’t remember a point in the last week where he’d been more than one wall away from Cas for more than thirty minutes. Having trouble locating him was just _weird_.

With a little huff of disappointment, Dean followed the hallways toward Jack’s bedroom. Maybe the kid had seen him and could point Dean in the right direction. Whether Dean actually wanted the truth-telling business fixed first, though, was a thought he purposely didn’t spend much time with.

As he came up to Jack’s door, Dean’s knuckles raised to knock, but a quiet sound stilled him. He turned his head slightly, listening. Soft murmuring was coming from the other side of the door. Well, that solved the Mystery of the Missing Cas. But having them both in the same room while Dean was a truth grenade ready to blow was maybe _not_ the wisest thing for Jack’s toddler ears…

“Dean?” Jack’s voice called.

“Yep,” he answered, before he could stop himself. _Goddamnit_. He couldn’t exactly slink away now. He closed his eyes in a moment of silence for his ego, and opened the door.

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas was perched on the corner of the neatly-made bed. Jack sat cross-legged at the headboard and waved.

“Hey, Cas. I missed you,” was the very first thing that came out of Dean’s mouth, because of course it was. Not as terrible as it could have been, at least. He pressed on, despite Cas’ slightly startled expression. “Uh. Listen, Jack, did you… do something?”

“I do lots of things,” Jack said amiably. “I ate a Snickers bar that Cas brought me – he promised it wasn’t from your cabinet, though.” He pointed a concerned look at Cas.

Cas looked away, suddenly interested in the woodgrain of the dresser.

Dean stepped into the room. “I wouldn’t care if it was. I buy them for you, anyway.” _Ugh_.

Jack’s eyes brightened. Dean quietly added his private candy stash to the list of casualties today.

“But, um. I think something stole my brain-to-mouth filter,” _and I’m kinda freaking out_ , “and if it’s just you, I’m not actually that worried. Pretty sure it’d be healthy to get some things out, anyway.”

Cas turned sharply toward Jack, who was sporting a soft smile. “Jack, you didn’t…”

“You were telling me he has a hard time ‘speaking his truth,’” Jack said. “I just wanted to make that easier. Not forever,” he clarified, looking kindly back at Dean, “just for a little while.”

Cas looked mildly horrified. “That wasn’t what I–”

“Cas, would you come to your room with me?” Dean said. When Jack’s face lit up with amusement (and maybe a little pride?) Dean huffed, “It’s not a sex thing!”

“Of course,” Cas answered gravely. His eyes fell as he stood. “Dean, I’m sorry. I never wanted your autonomy to be overridden–”

“It’s not,” Dean interrupted. “I just want what I want and it’s coming out easier. Like _way_ easier, though, and I don’t really want to embarrass myself in front of Jack even though I know he wouldn’t care but it still makes me uncomfortable because I want him to look up to me and I think I need to maintain a certain façade of traditional masculinity to do that, so...” His lungs hadn’t been quite prepared for this length of ramble and he pulled in a deep, rasping breath to refill them, “...so can we please go?”

Jack smiled gently. “Dean, I… I’d look up to you no matter what.”

A sudden prickle threatened behind Dean’s eyelashes. His mouth actually failed to make words for a moment. Eventually, he managed to croak, “Thank you.”

—

The halls between Jack’s and Cas’ rooms were quiet. Cas trailed a quarter stride behind, as if preparing to be scolded, and that was _so_ not the vibe Dean wanted right now. He needed Cas to have a little more pep in his step if this next part were to be as fun as he hoped.

“C’mere,” Dean said, and held out his hand.

Cas looked down at it blankly. Dean slowed. Cas slowed with him, until they both stopped, standing at angles to each other in a bare stretch of tiled hallway.

Dean twitched his fingers encouragingly. Cas just stared.

“Holding hands is new to you, huh?”

“This is… what you want?” Cas asked.

Dean frowned. “‘Course it’s what I want. Didn’t we just establish that’s kind of the whole deal right now?”

“But you… you haven’t…” Cas pursed his lips hesitantly. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Dean screwed up his face in confusion. “What? No, I haven’t. We’re in the same room, like, eighty percent of the time. This is the first time I’ve had to actually go looking for you in days.”

Cas finally met his eyes. “Emotionally, I mean. Since pulling me out, you’ve barely spoken to me.”

There it was – that feeling Dean had never wanted to experience again, that he’d felt more times now than he cared to count, that he’d last felt on the cold concrete floor of that deep underground room he’d circumvented now for weeks – that feeling of his heart dropping out of his chest.

The horror of it this time was realizing that Cas was right.

The pleasing mantra of Cas loving him only lived inside his head. Outside of it, Dean had been clammed up, tensed up, _looking_ up for those nonexistent puppet strings. When Cas was across the room, Dean didn’t know how to approach him. And when Cas was standing next to him, Dean couldn’t figure out what to say. Had he been so caught up in his own tongue-tied confusion of his newfound freedom that he’d actually… done nothing external at all? But, wait–

“I _kissed_ you!”

Cas drew his brows together. “In the Empty? Dean, you were panicking.”

“But I still _meant_ it. Wait, you think I don’t… you think I don’t want you?”

“I think,” Cas said carefully, painfully, slowly, “that you don’t want to want me.”

Fuck, Dean needed to zip-tie his heart in place inside his ribcage. His waiting hand grabbed forcefully at Cas’ listless one.

“Cas, I want you.” He could feel more words swelling his throat and he took a full breath in preparation. _Oh crap, here we go._

“You’re the best thing I’ve had, ever since I met you. You’re not a problem, or a failure, no matter what you’ve done – or crap I know I’ve said, god, I’m so sorry it _hurts_ – that made you feel like you are. Back in Purgatory, I know you heard me when I said I forgive you, but I’ve never been sure that you _listened_ , you know? It scares me that you might still think I just… _tolerate_ you, man. You don’t have to be _useful_ in order for me to care about you. You make me happy just being here and being you, Cas. God, you make me _so_ damn happy.

“You never saw me, how I was after I lost you. Not just this last time, but _every_ time. I got so fucking sad, and I drank way too much just to numb it out, and Sam, he tried to lift me up out of it but I just sank so low that I just wanted to drown and give it all up. And the only thing, the _only thing_ , that made it better, was you. Getting you back. Hugging you so tight like I never wanted to let you go again, except I was always scared that you didn’t actually _want_ to stay with me, so I let go, no matter how much it broke my heart every time. And then I got mad, because I didn’t know how else to cope, and I ended up hurting you again, and again. But you kept coming back, no matter how awful I’d been, and that made me scared again. Scared because I didn’t know what to do if you actually _did_ want to stay with me. That was too big, and too good, and I didn’t think I deserved it.

“But then you said it. You said all of it, out loud, right to my face, and I just… I froze. I froze, and you were taken away from me, _again_ , and I knew that when I got you back – because I was gonna get you back, no matter what it cost – I wasn’t going to fuck it up this time. I was going to make sure you _knew_ that I wanted you to stay. That I _wanted you_. But… but I didn’t. I thought I showed you, but I didn’t, because I was still scared.

“There were times, before, where… where you would have been right. Where I didn’t _want_ to want you, because that was so terrifying I couldn’t even stand to think about it. But I still did. Want you. And god, I still do. Even more. Always more, every damn day. I’m still working on not being scared, Cas, but I want you. I need you. I love you. I have for so long, I don’t even know when it started, but it’s real and you need to know it. I need you to know it. I need you to know that I love you back.”

Dean blinked, trying to clear away the watery blur that fuzzed out the details of Cas’ face. His hand was white-knuckled around Cas’ and he was maybe a bit shaky but he felt… He couldn’t even identify how he felt. He definitely needed more zip ties in his chest because his heart was still out of place, though now it was more floating up behind his sternum and pushing against his throat. There was tension pulling on his cheeks, around his eyes; a smile that didn’t feel worthy of the name, somehow so much bigger and softer than that trite word, and he couldn’t have stopped it even if he wanted to. He didn’t want to.

Cas was staring at him. A slow, hopeful curve was bending his lips. He asked, gently, “How do you feel right now?”

“Like I’m ready to float away,” Dean said breathlessly, brokenly.

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.” Again, a word that seemed so trite, but felt bigger than any syllable had right to.

Cas nodded knowingly.

Oh. Oh, shit, he knew. _Of course_ Cas knew exactly what this felt like.

“You… Can you say it again?” Dean rasped, still trying to hold all the pieces of his chest together. “So… so I can…?”

Cas stepped closer. He took Dean’s other hand, too, now quietly holding both between them.

For the second time, for the eternal time, Cas said,

“I love you.”

The breath Dean drew to answer felt like the first breath of a new cosmos.

“I love you, too.”

—

Cas’ hands were warm, so deliciously warm, sliding up the back of his shirt. Dean arched off the tiled wall to give him more space back there, to invite him up behind his shoulders and down behind his waistline while he pulled Cas closer with his lips.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to go to one of our rooms?” Cas murmured, breaking away to nuzzle his cheek on the way back to his ear.

“Yeah,” Dean said into Cas’ temple. “Yours. Was in the mood to get tickled and wanted somewhere I felt comfortable so I could let go and enjoy it.” He felt his ears going red, despite every other embarrassing thing he’d said in the last half hour. “S’why I came looking for you in the first place.”

Cas leaned back, just far enough to meet his eyes. “You were ‘in the mood to get tickled?’” he said with a smile tinting his words.

Dean tipped his head back against the wall, the sigh of resignation he’d prepared instead coming out as more mortifying words. “Yeah, the kind where you take me down so hard, my stomach hurts from laughing the whole rest of the day. I usually rile you up to it ‘cause I’m too embarrassed to just ask, even though it’s fun for me and that’s probably not as stupid as I think it is but I can’t help it.”

Cas studied him for a moment. “That explains a lot.”

Dean groaned and planted his forehead against Cas’ shoulder. “You’re not gonna laugh at me, right?” he muttered.

“Dean, I would never laugh at you for something you wanted,” Cas said seriously, pushing his fingers up through the hair above Dean’s nape. “Unless it was an eighth slice of pizza. I reserve the right to laugh then.”

Dean snorted into Cas’ lapels. “I’d ask for an extra slice anyway, just to hear you do it. Feels like I’m gonna melt whenever you so much as smile, so you might have to mop me up off the floor if I ever actually get a good laugh out of you.”

“Mm. I believe you’re the one who’s supposed to laugh, though.”

“Huh?”

Dean lifted his head just as Cas’ hand skimmed up his side, fingers tripping along his ribs. A surprised “ _ha_!” pushed out of him as his back reactively flattened against the wall.

Cas was smiling.

Dean was melting.

And then Dean was snorting, scrunching his shoulders and sliding a few inches down the wall as Cas’ fingertips crawled up his collarbones.

“So this is fun for you.” Cas grinned at his attempts to curl up. “And here I thought it was a behavioral deterrent. I should have known better when dealing with an oppositional Winchester.”

Dean’s heart, which had only just found its way back to its assigned seat a moment ago, was up and disobeying the natural order again, fluttering about like an overexcited bird in the cage of his ribs. He grabbed at Cas’ hands as he chuckled and squirmed. “Cas!” _Knock it off!_ “It tickles!”

“That’s the point,” Cas said fondly. He batted past Dean’s attempts at defense and began rapidly changing targets. He tickled Dean’s sides, then his underarms, his stomach, back to his collarbones again, just a few pokes or pinches at each one, switching too fast for Dean to keep up and driving him into a little frenzy of giggles. “Do you want me to stop?”

The habitual answer was _yes_ , normally accompanied by choice bits of blasphemy and colorful threats. However, the truthful answer was...

“No,” Dean laughed. “But I– hehe! But I s-still–”

Cas slowed enough for Dean to catch his breath, though his hands stayed on Dean’s sides and kept up a little massage with his thumbs that made Dean twitch. “You still what?”

“I still wanna go to your room.”

Cas regarded him thoughtfully. “Are you hoping I’ll pin you up against the bookcase again, like the time you took my phone and forced me to go through every pocket you had in order to recover it?”

“Or down on the bed,” Dean spilled helplessly.

Cas smiled that melting smile again. “Anything else you’re hoping for?”

—

“Cas! Ca-aha-as!”

It turned out there was very little Dean could actually say while being playfully assaulted. All of his usual _Stop it!_ s, _Don’t_!s, and _I will fucking strangle you with your own sock!_ s were apparently lacking in sufficient veracity. At least his instinctive reactions to protect himself weren’t hampered. Fat lot of good they were proving to be, though.

Cas’ arms around his thighs were unfazed by his kicking as he was hoisted ass-first through the doorway in a fireman’s carry. He slapped Cas’ back and twisted like a caught snake but collapsed in laughter all over again whenever Cas clawed a hand into his hamstrings. Dean shrieked as gravity upended itself and whip-cracked him into a bouncy landing on Cas’ mattress.

The euphoria of being so thoroughly manhandled morphed into an elated panic when he realized, two seconds too late, that Cas had deftly unpicked the double-knot of his bootlaces and was working his left foot free. Dean scrambled to regain his equilibrium, scooting back toward the pillows like a nervous crab.

_No, NO_ , “My feet are so fucking ticklish, Cas,” _don’t even think about it_ , _you dick!_ “Ple-he-hease!”

“Please what?” Cas asked, smirking like the asshole Dean knew he was even if he couldn’t verbalize it. His iron-shackle grip around Dean’s ankle tugged him bodily back down toward the foot of the bed.

_Don’t! Stop!_ “Don’t stop,” Dean panted, grinning bright as the sun.

Then he erupted with laughter as fingers spidered over his sole. Tingly fireworks rocketed up his leg and straight into his chest like a defibrillating jolt. He arched back on the bed, kicking and clawing, gasping and giggling. Cas held his ankle fast, immovable as a medieval set of stocks while he tickled and tickled like a goddamned monster. There were even chilly little tendril sensations of Grace wriggling between Dean’s toes, and that was just _cheating_. Dean yanked, squirmed, and yelped as his brain bluescreened with repeating lines of _Error: Cannot Get Away_. He wrapped his arms over his middle and shook with helpless laughter.

“Are you having the fun you wanted?” Cas asked sweetly, as if he weren’t driving Dean berserk.

It felt so good to laugh this much, this hard. Dean’s strength was slowly but surely wearing out as he struggled vainly. He couldn’t feel the burn yet in his convulsing belly, though that would come later when he inevitably chuckled at somebody’s dumb joke over dinner and was reminded of the workout. He’d probably flush then, too, like he was now.

“Definitely,” he choked out between gasps for breath.

“How about if I tickle the other foot, too?”

The _no!_ Dean wanted to cry just… didn’t come out. His leg recoiled like a bungee when Cas suddenly released his tortured foot, and he almost kneed himself square in the face. He again wasn’t quick enough to scrabble backwards; Cas snatched up his other ankle. The bedding muffled his panicked laughter as he rolled over to better claw his way toward the headboard, fully aware he couldn’t slip Cas’ grasp but damned if he wasn’t going to try. The mattress dipped under his knees as Cas followed his retreat. His remaining boot was being plucked loose with each inch he gained. A sharp _tug_ and it was off, and Dean stuffed a fistful of pillow in his mouth to stifle his squawking when Cas pinned his ankle down and scribbled across his arch.

“Now, I know you’re ticklish in many other places,” said Cas, while Dean wailed mirthfully into the pillow, “but I doubt I know all of them. Since you’ve so helpfully informed me that this is enjoyable for you, it’s only fair that I tell you: I plan on finding every – single – one.” He punctuated with clawed squeezes up the back of Dean’s leg.

A rush of heat washed over Dean when Cas crawled up over his kicking legs and draped himself over his back. The warmth of Cas’ breath was right behind his ear, dizzying him even as he squirmed from the pointed pokes marching up his sides.

“Maybe not today, maybe not by next week, but,” Cas purred, “in time, every ticklish spot you have will be brought to light. I have all the time I need, because…”

Cas paused as if for dramatic effect (which Dean wouldn’t have believed him purposely capable of just a handful of years ago, but now? Now Cas was certainly both capable and purposeful in dramatics), but the silence dragged. Cas’ hands went still, cupping Dean’s ribs almost reverently. The moment hung, growing quiet, the weight of it mingling with the physicality of Cas’ body on Dean’s back.

Before, Dean would have deflected the gravity with a flippant comment. But, truth-speaking or not, this was still After. He inhabited the hush, and he waited.

“Because…” Cas began again, and there was something like wonder in his voice. “Because you want me to stay.”

Dean turned his head, straining for a view of Cas’ face. “I want you to stay,” he confirmed softly.

Cas was there, just past his shoulder, the expression in his features as open and full as it had been that day – the day that divided Before from After. Cas pushed up on his elbows and learned forward. Dean twisted to meet him. Their smiles almost clacked their teeth together before their lips found each other. Cas pushed down into him, compressing him between the soft give of mattress and firm weight of body. Everything inside Dean’s chest felt squeezed in a way that had nothing to do with the pressure.

Happiness may have been in the saying and the being, but the having wasn’t half-bad, either.

“I love you,” Dean whispered, his lips catching the stubble of Cas’ jaw, because hell if he was going to let Cas be the one to say it first every time.

Cas gently kissed the corner of his mouth, once, twice. “I love you, too.”

They breathed each other.

After another moment, Cas asked, “Are you hurting yet?”

Dean wiggled a bit beneath him, feeling pleasantly flattened on his belly between Cas and the bed that smelled of him. “Nope. Smush me for as long as you want.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Cas’ arms tightened around him. “Does your stomach hurt from laughing yet?”

“No, it’s...” All at once, Dean registered how immobile he was, effectively pinned beneath Cas’ not-insignificant bulk. He gulped down a nervous laugh as Cas’ hands began twitching back to life. “Cas, wait– wait, no-hoho!”

The impending strike stalled immediately. “No more?” Cas said, soothing and apologetic.

“Oh. I, uh–” Dean licked his lips. “I think Jack’s thing wore off.”

Cas’ tone took a turn for the devious. “ _Yes_ more?”

“...Yes?” Dean tried, small and hesitant and maybe just a little squeaky.

Then he was a mess of laughter once again, at the mercy of tickling hands and teasing Grace and tender, nibbling kisses.

—

Dean’s stomach hurt. So did his shoulders, his thighs, his neck – just about everything ached. He felt awesome.

He’d finally caught his breath; Cas leaned in and gently stole it again from his lips. They hummed together, Cas cupping his hands around Dean’s jaw, Dean winding an arm around Cas’ neck.

“M’sorry it took me so long,” Dean sighed against his skin. “To say things. To let you know.”

“I’m not sorry for missed time,” said Cas, calm as the deep ocean. “Twelve years is hardly a blink on the scale of time I will love you.”

Even if Dean’s voicebox had still been lubed up, he doubted he could’ve come up with something to say to that. “Geez, Cas,” he choked.

Cas curled his fingers through Dean’s hair and pulled Dean’s forehead against his chin. “I am not limited to a human lifetime. And, of course, neither are you. A soul is eternal.”

Once more, Dean’s heart stuttered in the face of Cas’ devotion. A self-deprecating response formed habitually on his tongue, but he made the effort to swallow it. He nuzzled into Cas’ neck. “Will you even be able to get cuddly in Heaven, or are you gonna be too busy being a wavelength with four dimensions and infinite heads or whatever?”

“There will be cuddling. Though I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the metaphysical alternatives, should you choose to… experiment.”

Well, _that_ was something Dean’s brain was definitely too underequipped and overtired to process. He grumbled nonsensical sounds into Cas’ stubbled throat and curled more tightly around him. Taking Cas’ view on time meant that conversation could wait.

For now, he’d lay on Cas’ chest, enjoy the soreness in his belly, and look forward to all the times to come.


End file.
